


stardust

by vespersshampoo



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 18:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17492714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vespersshampoo/pseuds/vespersshampoo
Summary: Craig had been frustrated lately, so he went to the goth kids for assistance.Craig Tucker x Goth kids





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first South Park fanfiction, but I started writing it originally on wattpad. 
> 
> I'm writing this for my friend Jam, and I don't expect it to get much attention.

The universe is so big, the teacher was saying, we still see light from stars that died millions of years ago. Craig sat up straight, overturned the pages of his notebook and wrote: where does a star go when it dies? His notebook was overflowing with the unprofitable catechism, bulleted lists of meaningless rambles.

Being a high-grade student, he didn't bother with class, there was no point for him to adulate over the boring repetitive lessons if he would just pass anyways. So instead of paying attention to the rest of the teacher's long speech, he had begun to draw against the edge margin of the notebook page, nothing too fancy; a simple drawing of what he believed the solar system to look like.

Once the bell rang, the raven-haired male found himself stagnant as the students around him spilled unceremoniously out through the door and into the busy halls. He didn't move until the room was completely void of other life, his hands numbly packing away his things as he rose and followed the others into the hallway. 

Avoiding his locker, he had found himself walking to the cafeteria for B lunch, the lunch he shared with two people he considered to be his friends, Clyde and Token. Craig was too lost in his thoughts to focus on food, he needed to voice is questions and get other perspectives. 

"Hey guys, have you ever wondered where the stars go after they die?" he questioned as he sat across from the two teenagers, his bag sliding off his shoulder and on to the floor as he positioned himself against the small stool. 

"Like celebrities?" Token asked, his clear voice rung like a bell as the teen focused on his words through the clatter of the bustling room. 

"No."

"Like in the sky? They turn to dust. Space dust." unlike the other two males, Clyde's voice sounded stuffy, much to Craig's distaste.

"Fuck. No." he sighed loudly in exasperation, "What becomes of that dust, where does each particle go and where do they belong?" 

Token and Clyde exchanged glances before the ebony teen spoke, "I don't know, that sounds pretty emo to me. Why don't you ask the emo kids that sit behind the school?" 

"You mean the fucking goth kids?" God, he wished that he was home right now, Stripe curled up on his chest where he could drown his dumb friends and just as dumb questions out with loud music and the warmth of his pride and joy guinea pig. 

Getting up with a sigh he flipped his friends off, his middle finger and thumb pronounced and long as he gave them both an annoyed glare. Scooping up his bag with his free hand he began to make his way to the back of the school, holding the crass gesture up just above his head the whole way.


	2. Chapter 2

The weather was dry and cold, sharp winds occasionally cutting through the Colorado air as it carried away with soft grey smoke that dances gracefully past the lips of the dreary group. Even as Craig began to approach them, they didn't bother to spare a passing glance, deep melancholic music caressing their dark void. 

The raven didn't want to bother with the goths, he wanted to be answered quickly and nothing more. So when he asked once more, this time to the edge lords before him, about the stars, he was displeased as they went through their routines. 

"get the fuck out of here conformist, we don't have time for you," Pete said, his dark bangs shadowing his sunken tired eyes before they were flipped back near his temple with a simple nod of his head. "can't you tell that we're busy?"

The rest of the goths only nodded as Craig glared towards the multitoned goth, taking in his rather emo appearance before he reached into his pocket. Fishing around for a moment the teen pulled out a thin cigarette, it fitting perfectly placed between his thin lips as he lit it. He wasn't going to waste his time on Pete, he wasn't in charge regardless so it wasn't worth his while to start a fight. 

When Michael began to speak, Craig almost jolted, normally it took extended efforts to get the group vocal, but they gladly spoke up after Pete's unnecessary assault. "They turn into dust, which then creates everything and anything. We're made of darkness and stardust, compiled into these ugly forms only to suffer upon earth." he had spoken, the words sinking into the rebel's mind as he quickly retrieved his notebook for the second time that day, the tip of his felt pen scribbling with ease across a lined page 

The heavyset woman in the middle began to speak, her voice practically making Craig's ears bleed as she presented her estate, her thick black glossed lips closing over a cigarette between each sentence. "That's why we're categorized by the stars, horoscopes, star charts. We were all once imploded within the universe. It's really quite morbid." 

Craig only nodded, his thick lashes ever heavy as he brought his gaze to the nearby soccer field, his cancer stick placed calmly between his lips once more as she spoke again, his divided attention seemingly concentrated on the green expansion. "You should become goth, it suits you. I'll have Michael text you my address and you can come over and show us more of your notebook." 

"Nah. I'll come over, but I don't want to be seen with the goth kids." with that he glanced back as he head shuffling, Pete had started to get up, wandering with a quick wave a the mutter of "cigarettes" before he made his way to the school's back gates, Henrietta following after as Craig was left with the two males. 

When he made eye contact with the taller of the three, Craig almost gasped, Michael had the same eye color as Stripe, deep warm chocolate, almost like a candy bar left in the sun on a summer day. He almost had the same with Firkle as well, the 10 ten year old's blue eyes reminding him of the sky and its dark gloomy clouds. He had never bothered to really take a look at the goth kids, to bother with examining their features and unique beauty. 

"We need your number." 

"Oh right sorry." Craig had nearly forgotten from just how shocked he was at the strange comfort the two brought him. Clearing his mind and focusing back on the task, he reached his pale hand out to take the black phone from the goth, his fingers quickly typing his phone number into the contact bar. Anticipation rising through his veins with no explanation other than maybe excitement, perhaps the chance to bring closure to his inner ramblings.


	3. Chapter 3

The soft buzzing of his phone awoke Craig from his nap, Stripe sat comfortably on his chest, the small guinea pig curled up into a perfect ball against his breastbone. He moved his pride and joy aside with care as he reached for his phone, he hadn't intended to skip school, but he found himself at home regardless.

Unlocking the phone with his thumb, Craig lazily read the blurry text, construed by his tired eyes as he attempted to understand what he was reading. 

Tall goth: hey Craig are you still coming tonight

The raven-haired male grunted as Michael sent him the address to the Biggle residence, his legs seemingly moving on their own as he earned his way out of bed, his phone falling lazily to the mattress. 

Craig lifted Stripe up, locating the sleeping ball of fluff back into his cage before he made his way to the dresser, grumpily pulling of his sweaty clothes, only to replace them with jeans and a blue t-shirt. Shoving a pack of cigarettes into his back pocket, Craig grabbed his phone and rapidly pulled on his jacket, making his way out the door after calling a simple, ”IM GOING OUT” to his little sister and parents. 

Walking to the goth’s lair didn't bother him, he loved the chilled wind, how it tenderly cut and caressed his pale skin. Like tiny kisses from cold, dead lips. The crush of snow and ice making his walk seemingly nothing but a short stroll of a few blocks before he had reached the unmarked green house from the description he was given. 

”Well fuck, I'm already here. I might as well go for it.” He stated under his breath before he rapped at the door, his patience already running thin before he was granted with thick clouds of smoke and the dim light of candles from inside. 

There at the door stood Pete, his tired eyes raking over Craig with something just a little more than boredom. The goth flipped his bangs out of his face as he stepped aside for the conformist to enter the household. ”Her parents are out of town. We’re hanging out in the living room.” 

After Pete spoke, his tired voice cutting like glass into Craig’s soul, the male finally heard the thick hum of gothic music, the bass guitar making his pulse quicken as he glanced up into Pete's lined eyes. 

Pete sucked his teeth and slammed the door behind the two, his hand turning over to yank at Craig’s wrist and lead him to the couch where the other goths stayed perched.

Michael was the first to speak, his leadership skills uncanny as his long slender fingers worked their way along the scalp of the youngest goth, Firkle only letting out a simple huff in response. ”Thank you for joining us Craig, it's a shame you couldn't bother yourself to be a goth, you'd be the favorite.” He hired a drag from his half-smoked cigarette with his free hand, before moving the coffin nail down between Firkle’s lips, who then did the same before passing it to Pete. 

”If I joined you, that would make me a conformist,” Craig said simply, his eyes roaming over each of the goth’s lips before they glanced to watch the smoke rise carefully through the air, making him crave a cigarette for himself. 

Then Henrietta spoke for what appeared to be the first time in a while, her voice raspy from being idle ”I admire your darkness and pain.” 

Craig smiled a little, mostly from how awkward the position had become before he sat himself down on the coffee table in front of the couch, his hands moving too slow to reach for his cigarettes, as Pete placed one between his lips before the pack could even find itself ajar. 

”You know, If you won't join us, we might as well fuck so we can mingle in darkness together.” Then Craig saw it, the stare in Pete’s eyes had been lust, he couldn't help but nervously bite at the butt of the shared cigarette as he strained to come up with a response. 

Henrietta, who had been smoking her own cigarette began to choke violently from shock as the bullet in her throat became trapped. This caused Firkle to move from his spot, evidently not amused by his need to sport into action as he began to pat the heavyset, motherly figure on the back. ”Isn't that conformist as fuck?” he articulated, his small voice reminding Craig of the smooth, yet harsh taste of a cigarette. 

Then they all looked to their leader, Craig still fumbling for the proper words as he simply gave up and enjoyed what few drags were left of the cancer stick as Michael spoke. ”its just sex, and none of us are truly conformists, its fine by me.” with that, Pete’s bored face turned into a grin, his stained teeth gleaming in the light of the candles.


End file.
